


Honor And Promises

by homosexual_having_tea



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, also fair warning:, bo-katan is kinda antagonistic here, but it gets better dont worry!, but yeah, right so this starts off HELLA angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homosexual_having_tea/pseuds/homosexual_having_tea
Summary: Bo-Katan won't take the darksaber and the throne without an honorable duel. Din just wants his son back, not a fight to the death.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Comments: 7
Kudos: 279





	Honor And Promises

Din stood stiffly, holding out the saber. “I don’t want to fight you, Bo-Katan. I don’t have the strength to now. Just take this and we can go our own ways,” Her mask stared at the man in stony silence. “I don’t want to be the Manda’lor.” He couldn’t fight her now. Not after losing all he had.

She muttered bitterly under her breath, uncrossing her arms to let her hand dangle uncomfortably close to the blaster holstered at her hip. “It doesn’t matter whether you want to or not. You can’t surrender it to me without fair combat.” 

“You’re the rightful ruler. You should have it,” he reasoned, setting down the saber on an idling beeping computer next to him, pushing it towards the woman icily holding his gaze. 

“If you truly are a Mandlorian, as you so claim, you’d know that isn’t how this works!” she snapped loudly. Din flinched back, unconsciously drawing his blaster before he could even register moving. Bo-Katan drew a millisecond later, her own gun aimed at Din’s chest. Neither moved for a tense moment, the suspense crackling in the air. 

The two fired almost simultaneously, golden sparks flying off their armor. Bo-Katan lunged, seizing Din’s wrist before twisting it sharply behind his back. He grunted. The blaster clattered to the ground as he aimed a punch at the unprotected sliver on her side. The grip loosened on his arm and the two broke apart, circling each other warily before Bo-Katan dove at him once again, unsheathing the knife from her gauntlet with a metallic swish. The blade struck Din’s arm, leaving an angry crimson streak in its wake.

He stumbled back, fighting the urge to hold a hand to stop the deep gash’s bleeding. Quickly tapping a series of buttons on his gauntlet, a focused wave of fire shot towards Bo-Katan. She ducked rolling under the crackling flames, rolling into a crouch. Before Din could react, her foot swept his legs out from under him. His head hit the metal floor with an ungraceful thunk that made his vision swim with pinpricks of black. Dizzy and discombobulated, Din barely was able to deflect the other Mandalorian’s stab. The knife bounced off the beskar guarding his forearms, missing a gap in the armor by mere centimeters. 

Din managed to drag himself behind one of the large computers, holding up his hands as he struggled to his feet. The gash on his arm, already soaking his sleeve all the way through with blood, throbbed in unison with the pain in his head. “You’ve won, ok? Take the saber and go. I don’t want any of this.”

Bo-Katan growled, using a short burst from her jetpack to flip over the desk and land directly in front of Din. She raised her knife, looking down the blade at Din. “It doesn’t matter what you want. My birthright is that throne and I will not be denied it by your cowardice!” With a yell, she thrust the blade in Din’s ribs. Pain shot through his chest like fire as his knees gave out beneath him. He faintly heard her say something about how, now, she could take the saber. The world was fading in and out of hazy black in his peripheral vision. The last thing he registered with any semblance of clarity was Bo-Katan kneeling in front of him, holding the saber in one hand and cleaning blood, his blood, off her knife with the other.

“I’m sorry it’ll end this way for you, but I couldn’t give up my throne. Good bye, Djarin.” Din blinked rapidly, trying to stay conscious as he watched the Mandalorian hurriedly make her way down the hall. His breath came in with short gasps. It was far too early to be certain, his hazed mind thought, but she didn’t seem to have hit his lungs. This was the last semi-coherent thought his brain was able to produce before his ability to stay conscious began to waver, sending him into a partially conscious condition.

What could have been seconds or decades later, Din faintly felt a hand shake his shoulder. Fighting the darkness threatening to envelope him, his eyes opened slightly. Through the grey fog, he saw Cara panickedly trying to bandage the bleeding wounds. Fennec stood silently behind her, her eyes wide at Din’s wounded state.

“Come on, Mando. No dying on us, ok?” Cara’s voice seemed to be distant, echoing down a long tunnel. “You gotta see Grogu again. You promised the kid.” The words rattled in his mind as he lost his battle with consciousness and slipped into the dark.

Din woke slowly, blinking weakly against light streaming into his eyes. The air was warm around him. He attempted to sit up, expecting sharp pain but oddly facing only a slight ache in his injuries. As his eyes adjusted to the light of the room, he took in his surroundings. A hospital. They'd been able to get him out of the Imperial cruiser. He attempted to sit up, trying not to detach the bacta patches healing the various scrapes and bruises along his arm.

Before he was able to drag himself out of the bed, the door to the room quietly wooshed open. A sense of calm washed over him at a familiar face. Cara walked in talking with a med droid and a doctor before she noticed Din.

“Hey, no getting up yet. Bo-Katan messed you up pretty damn good and you’re gonna be weak for a while. Blood loss’ll do that to you,” she said, walking over to his side, crossing her arms and sitting down on the metallic bench. She smiled faintly at Din. “Glad you’re not dead, though.”

He laughed drily, leaning back. “That makes one. Care to tell me where I am?” The heavy raspiness in his voice made him wonder just how long he’d been out.

Cara typed something into the faintly blinking comm pad on her wrist before responding, “A hospital on Yavin 4. The cruiser was close enough, and either way, Shand thought this was the best place to take you.”

Din furrowed his eyebrows in tired confusion. “What’s so special about an old Rebel base?” Cara smiled at the comm pad before looking up at Din.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” The door to the room slid open once again, this time revealing Greef holding-

“Grogu.”

The kid cooed happily, holding out his hands towards Din. Greef smiled and gently placed Grogu on the end of the bed. He quickly waddled over the blankets and wrapped his tiny arms around Din’s uninjured bicep, pressing his forehead to the dark fabric of Din’s shirt. The world blurred through a veil of tears.

“He can’t be here. The Jedi is supposed to be training him,” Din rasped, trying desperately to hold back the cascade of emotions threatening to spill over. Cara smiled at Din, uncrossing her arms.  
“That’s why we’re on Yavin 4. The Jedi school took over in the base after the war. An old contact of mine in the Republic told me where it was,” Cara said.

“We wanted the little one here to be with you. Jedi can heal though the Force, and you definitely needed it, Mando,” Greef chimed in, grinning at the baby.

Din looked down at his son, who gave him a smiled at him with wide eyes and babbled something nonsensically before gently head-butting into Din’s arm again. A few silent tears fell, stinging in the cuts on his face. He smiled faintly, returning the hug.

“I told you I’d see you again, ad’ika.”


End file.
